Author: Comedianmasta (Nate)
Rating: 12+ Welcome to the Teens!
Genre: Fantasy, Action, Adventure
Series?: No, not to say. This book will end with just 1, then if I choose to do anymore stories in/around this same period or in my world of this then I will title it World War Fantasy: Whatever
Discription: 1950s Earth, many years since the time of Elves, Dragons, Dwarves, Goblins, Magic, and Legends. The only difference is: They're all still here! based off the shortstories Here We delve into the world of two OSS Agents and a rag-tag cast of cooky characters who embark on a mad quest to save the world! Unfortunatley, they end up setting off the Zombie portion of WW2. Read how A Man, and Elf, a Reporter, a Begger, a gangster, a Dwarf, an Australian, and a German Veteran worked together to try and bring down Hitlers Germany and the Axis powers consisting of the Goblin Empire and superstitious tribes from around the world. It's garunteed to be an adventure you won't forget yet: From Orlando to Australia to Africa, to France, to Goblin-Controlled Russia, it's a story you'll remember for ever and ever.

Now I hope you enjoy this adventure, from the bottom of my heart!

I consider the Short Stories from above all the "Prologue" you'll need. Please reference them for connections and the like. Now, chapter one...World War Fantasy
Ancient ArtifactChapter 1Tho Art Spies

Jacub adjusted his tie once more. He hated these monkey suits, and cursed whatever man, elf, or dwarf invented them. He bumped into a secretary walking down the hall, and she glared at him.

“Sorry,” was all he was able to mutter and she placed her hands on her hips.

“Can I help you, sir,” she asked in a snotty attitude.

“Sorry, just seeing the chief,” he said and he continued walking down the hall.

“Hey,” she yelled, but was too late.

Jacub continued walking down the halls until he saw the giant, oak door with a gold plate on it that read Chief Welshmore. He knocked twice before letting himself in. He was always surprised at how heavy these doors were.

Jacub looked around the room. First thing he noticed was that the Chief was already facing him, rather then his usual turned away while he worked or stared out his window, disguised as just another part of the wall.

Jacub was amazed at the effort the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) did to conceal their presence. Nobody cared about them, well no one in America at least. They disguised their nice offices and hallways and labs as simple metal factory out in Pennsylvania. It was enough to keep the public off, but anyone who really wanted to know could find out. Jacub didn’t know where they got the magicians who could conjure up that sort of spell, but he did know a lot of the looks were do to minor magic.

The Chief had a lot of his past war objects around the room. Standard issue Bow and a few arrows, the Springfield bolt action rifle, and his sword, still stained with Italian blood (he said it was for sentimental purposes he didn’t clean it). The Chief was quite a Rookie Hero back in the Great War. He was in it only for two years, but in that two years served on the Italian front he proved to be a leader and in no way a follower. Before the end of the war, he was already a Sergeant and preparing to move up in the ranks.

Unlike the other Americans who wanted to return home and enjoy they new technology and innovations of the early twenties, The Chief stayed in the military, which earned him even more ranks to fill the slots. In just four years of service, he had made his way all the way up to Lieutenant. Unfortunately for him, his young ambitions and inexperience lost his the complete use of his right leg in a Colony War during 1933. He then retired as a Captain and went into Intelligence work. This left him angry at the world, even though 15 years of service had treated him good.

He was now the Ill-Tempered Chief of Intelligence, and all-around Chief of the OSS. He had become a burley man, who needed the aid of a cane to walk. He had grown a good sized beard, and had just began balding on the top of his head. Unlike the rest of his family, he had grown a bushy pair of eyebrows, which could conceal his eyes when he was very angry.

Jacub always loved fooling around with him and getting on his nerves. This would normally make you a least favorite of any boss, but for some reason The Chief had taken a liking to Jacub.

Jacub allowed the door to fly open and he raised his arms in a friendly greeting.

“Hey, Chief,” said Jacub, “Didja miss me?”

“Sit down, Maxwell,” said the Chief, “We have a lot to discuss.”

“What? My mission was a success,” said Jacub, “That African war will be over in a couple of months. And the War in Europe? Ha, it’ll never last. If the Goblins can’t even hold down Africa with German help, then there’s no way they’ll…”

Jacub trailed off as the door closed, unblocking his view to a chair off to the side. A man with purplish skin, a frail body, and light (almost white) blue combed hair sat in a chair with his legs crossed and his hands folded in his lap. Jacub stared at him, and his heart rate rose. This could be an evaluation, this could be promotion; this could be social suicide.

Jacub slowly took a chair in front of the Chief, and eyed them both wearily.

“Relax, Maxwell,” said the Chief, “This is Lieutenant Nichols. I needed to talk to you both.”

Jacub released the air he had been holding in his lungs, “Oh, good. Nice to meet you Lieutenant. I’ve heard you have quite a reputation in Document recovery.”

“Yes,” said Nichols, “I know of your reputation, Lieutenant. I believe you just came back from… Africa I presume.”

“Why, yes,” said Jacub, “I know it’s not an elf’s ideal mission but I enjoyed it quite decently. I was in and out without detection.”

“Uh-huh,” said Nichols, very forced, “Without Detection?”

“Alright, you two,” said the Chief, “This is sort of a debrief/briefing here. Now you both have been outstanding on the field. Your recent works have helped out extremely.”

“So what’s the mission,” asked Nichols.

“Well, Lieutenant Maxwell, here, put a major dent in the Goblin African Movement,” started the Chief, “Now they are, understandably, pushing back from the British forces at this moment; but their forces still move supplies and troops down the east coast of Africa to the Southern Tip. No one understands why they would do such a thing besides preparing a flanking strike from the south. The journey through the Congo and it’s forest would be dangerous for anybody, but it is still possible.”

“So, he’s going to Africa?” asked Nichols, pointing at Jacub.

“South Africa,” said Jacub, “I have to admit I don’t exactly want to go back, sir.”

“Not your choice,” said the Chief, “But you’re not going to Africa. Michael, here,” The Chief pointed toward Nichols, “Has recently come back from Germany with the news that Hitler might be looking into more… supernatural ways of winning this war.”

“Magic?” asked Jacub and Mike together.

“Yes,” said the Chief, “And we want answers. What’s their plan and how are they going to accomplish it. We believe a German Spy has set up shop down south in Florida. His specialty was Magical Arts before Germany went to war. We weren’t going to act on him just yet, for we’re not in the war nor has he discovered anything we know of, but if we do end up entering this war then what he knows is vital. I want you two to go and-”

“Wait a second, Chief,” said Nichols, standing to his feat, “What did you just say?”

“I was saying that I wanted you two to go-”

“You want me and him to work together?” asked Nichols, an angry look taking over his face.

“Why, yes,” said the Chief.

“Is there a problem with me?” asked Jacub, crossing his arms.

“Sir,” said Mike, “With all do respect, I can not work with this man.”

“Is it because I’m a man?” asked Jacub, “You don’t work with humans?”

“Sir, Lieutenant Maxwell and I have different… strategies,” Mike argued, “I believe my subtle approach would be interrupted by his… you know.”

“Subtle? I’m subtle,” said Jacub.

“Are you telling a joke?” asked Mike, “What about Beijing?”

“What about Beijing?” asked Jacub.

Mike struggled for the words before he spoke again, raising his voice, “What about Beijing! Maxwell, you blew up a whole building!”

“It was coming down anyway,” said Jacub, “You know the Chinese.”

“What about your last mission?” asked Mike, “You destroyed a major bridge. Just blew it up! You didn’t even hit your target. You had to go in all guns-a-blazing-cowboy to kill the General.”

“I did not, I used a Sniper Rifle,” said Jacub.

“Enough, you two,” said the Chief, “I took both your reputations to account while picking a group to look into this.”

“Well maybe I don’t want to work with YOU, buddy,” continued Jacub, “Elves are too proper, too snotty, too clean, and most definitely too picky!”

“How dare you judge me based on my race,” said Mike, “I’m complaining based on your reputation!”

“What about yours,” said Jacub, “I haven’t even heard of a Lieutenant Nick.”

“It’s Nichols,” said Mike, “Lieutenant Michael Nichols!”

“What do I care?” asked Jacub.

“Enough!” said the Chief, “Now listen. You two better learn to work together and fast because I want you to bring me that Croat as soon as possible, you understand? I want to know why he’s here and what he’s up to! Now get your lazy butts out of my office!”

Before Jacub could react, the Chief had darted out of his chair and shoved Jacub and Michael outside, slamming his heavy door on the other side. Jacub stood in the hallway, stunned, for a little bit before shrugging and walking down the hall. Mike looked from the door to Jacub, and then he rolled his eyes and followed him down the hall.

“So, now what?” asked Mike.

“I guess we put aside our differences and go find this Croat,” said Jacub without looking towards Mike at all, “But first I need to make a stop.”

Jacub stopped by the registration desk for their starter funds, train tickets to Florida, and a small document on their mission objectives along with a photo of the Spy. He opened it up and looked at the ill photo. The man had a long nose, and he was tall. Those were the two big features he could get from the Photo, for he wore a fedora and trench coat that covered up a lot of his features.

“Wow… this guy didn’t try at all, did he?” asked Jacub.

“He does look conspicuous. I mean, who goes to a bakery in Florida?” said Mike.

“What?” exclaimed Jacub, relooking over the picture, “How do you know he’s going into a bakery? I can’t even read that stuff.”

“Well, I trained myself to mathematically rearrange the pixels in my head to get a clearer idea of what the photo is trying to show,” Mike said through a smile, “It has helped me identify documents in the back of photos, recognize people better, and-”

----
Jacub continued walking down corridors until he reached the lab branch. Here many scientists tried their best to make innovations to every day life, as well has military every day life. Scientists scribbled on paper, covered blackboards with equations, and set sire to everything nearby with prototype experiments. When Jacub entered he spotted a small man working on something on a table. The man was much smaller the a regular man, in fact he could’ve been dwarf if not for his smaller build.

Jacub smiled at Mike, and then began rapping on the man’s head. The man bolted upright, and stood erect on the table, some pair or super goggles hanging just over his eyes, making them appear bigger then they probably were.

Gnomes were much different from dwarves, Let’s just say that if dwarves were more like humans, then gnomes were more like elves. Instead of short a stalky, heavy built like dwarves; gnomes were more thin, and elegantly build. Their beards grew out like silk, instead of rough and messy. They were more environmentally friendly, and for a long time followed the elves in not modernizing like dwarves and man. In time, they were alone to care for the woods, and became mystical creatures of the past.

Gnomes soon modernized, and like the dwarves before them became necessities in any modern country. They were supper smart in whatever
they put their mind to. Gnomes put their minds to controlled logging, wood crafting, and all forms of gardening. Gnomes also took interest in technology, and the growth of it. Unfortunately not enough supported war for them to share any of their findings with any government. Almost like the Goblins, Gnomes retreated to form their own societies and countries. Unlike the Goblins, they embraced countries and governments and unlike dwarves they didn’t shy away from the public eye.

“So, Carl,” said Jacub to the gnome, “What’s new for two agents going to Florida.”

The gnome looked up from his pad and eyed the two, before shaking his head and turning his back on them.

“Sorry, Lieutenant. We do not endorse usage of government equipment on leave. You’ll have to return when you receive your next assignment.”

“Carl, we are on an assignment,” said Jacub, “you gotta have something fun!”

“It’s true,” said Mike, “We’re tracking down some Nazi Crazy and seeing what he has for us.”

“Uh-huh,” said Carl, staring at them intently, “And you are with him, Lieutenant Nichols? Quite a different combination of… tactics, don’t you think?”

“We’re not happy about it either,” said Jacub quickly, “So whatcha got?”

“Well,” said Carl, thinking, “I do have a few items that could use a field test… and you could use an update-”

“All right!” yelled Jacub, “I knew you could set us up. Ok, what do you got for me?”

“This way,” said Carl, adjusting his goggles and jumping off the table.

He then scurried through the lab, Jacub following intently. Carl lead them to a table in front of a testing room window. Inside, a mannequin had a flamethrower strapped to its back and fired a steady stream towards another target. A fixed M1 Garand had a rope around its trigger, and it fired at the pack of the flamethrower. The flamethrower exploded, engulfing the mannequin in flames.

“Hmm…” said Carl, examining the event, “Still needs work. You see, we’re trying to make a more durable flame thrower tank that also won’t cause an explosion if punctured. There are… kinks.”

Mike shook his head and rolled his eyes. Kinks… he hated that word.

“Alright, now. Jacub, I have a special thing for you. This is a small caliber pistol, we’ve been calling it the Colt Dagger. It has a four shot capacity of these bullets,” Carl showed a tiny bullet, under an inch long, “Now, this is not the thing. The thing is this arm band it comes with.”

Carl pulled out an array of straps small metal bars and showed it to Jacub. Jacub just shook his head and rolled his eyes. Carl furrowed his brows and held out a finger.

“Now, when worn like so,” Carl somehow maneuvered all the straps around his right arm, and eventually he had the whole thing attached to his arm.

It wrapped around comfortably, but it still had some attachments still loosely swing about.

“Now, place the gun in,” Carl attached the gun, and set it back next to his arm.

He then rolled back down his lab coat and held out his hands.

“Cool, hides your guns!” said Jacub, “Look, you can’t even see it.”

“The strap does that, makes it practically hidden, even from short frisks. But it only holds this gun, and that is not all,” said Carl.

Carl walked over to a target ranger, and whipped out his arm. His middle and ring finger pressed down quickly on a trigger in his palm and the gun shot out of the sleeve and into his hand. He then grabbed a hold of it like a normal pistol and pumped the four shots into the target.

“Ok, I’ll admit… that’s a little cool,” said Jacub, nodding at Mike.

“Unfortunately, it too has some kinks,” said Carl, “With the small caliber and gun size, it is extremely inaccurate. It must be used for close quarters defense only. This is still helpful because the gun and holster…thingy are practically invisible once worn properly. They are also extremely light weight, so they are no burden.”

“Pretty nifty, Carl,” said Jacub.

“Yes, I think so,” said Carl, “Now, for you.”

Carl led Mike over to another table, and picked up a small earpiece. It looked like a human ear, but it was off-colored.

“This is a new device we’ve been working for a while. It’s the first device of its kind because it utilizes great technology with intricate magic!”

“Magic…” scoffed Jacub.

“Observe,” said Carl.

He placed the fake ear on his own ear, and then he pinched the lobe. The ear then changed, perfectly matching his little pointed ear. The color slowly turned to match hue of his face, and the point matched identical to what his original ear looked like.

“Woa,” said Mike, “Some sort of disguising of ears…”

“And that’s not all,” said Carl, as he pressed the lobe again.

The ear changed again, except this time it took away the point, and became rounded like a human ear. The hue stayed the same, perfectly matching Carl’s face.

“That is still not all,” said Carl, “It will also match whatever makeup or mask you are currently wearing, making your disguise that much more real. And disguise isn’t its main function! It is really a hearing aid. It will be able to give you crisper, clearer sound then our other long-distance hearing devices. As you’ve noticed… It’s much smaller then any we’ve made so far.”

“This could be really helpful,” said Mike, “Thanks Carl.”

“As with the Dagger, both of you will be equipped with these items. We hope that someday they’ll be common place.”

“That’s it, Carl?” asked Jacub, “A small gun and a fake ear? Now, don’t get me wrong, they’re cool. But what about something cooler! What about the detonator which doubles as a pen, what about the flame thrower concealed in a pen, what about the poison disguised as breath mints?”

“Now, now, Lieutenant Maxwell,” said Carl, “Those are classified… and currently under major testing. Do you know how hard it is to fit the right components into a pen so flames don’t shoot out when you’re trying to write? What you have took countless tax-payers dollars already. I’m sorry I can’t feed your… destructive appetite but something tells me you won’t need anything else while looking for a spy in Florida. What are you
planning on doing, anyways?”

“Ugh, nothing Carl,” said Jacub, “It’s just you always seem to have something cool with you.”

“These are fine, Carl,” said Mike, “Thank you. We’ll take them and leave, we have a train to catch. Right Lieutenant?”

Jacub nodded his head and turned to leave.

“Make sure you read the directions,” said Carl, “Otherwise someone could get hurt!”

OK, not the welcome I expected... couple weeks and... nothing, lol. It's alright, somethings are welcomed with open arms, some aren't. Well, I thought I'd get out another chapter and it might help move this story along a little.

May I just say this book seems to be moving at a fast pace, getting you right into the story and covering alot of plotline quickly. Well, I wish that was so but no matter what it feels, it's paced well. ALOT is gonna happen in this book, much more then even Chivalry is Dead was planned to have. So please, it's fast and goes far fast, but there's ALOT to come... ok, now to CH2.

Chapter 2
Pre-War Vibe

The steam from the train filled the station platform as it slowly came to a stop. Just as the doors opened Jacub was already out and making his way away from the train. He wore kaki pants and a white button down shirt this time, and a pair of aviator sunglasses.

Mike was out shortly behind him, and tried to get their bags from the train. He adjusted his glasses he had on. Mike had been reading a classic novel on the train, something about a group of dwarfish fishermen who get stuck on an old submarine with an Arab genius. Mike was marveling about how close to actual submarines the author had gotten, and he had been dead for twenty years.

Jacub grabbed his suitcase and walked off, leaving Mike to struggle with his bags, and he slowly followed.

“Do you mind,” said Mike, “It won’t kill you to wait up.”

“Why?” asked Jacub, “It’s not my fault you packed more then you could carry.”

“I packed the necessities. I’m an elf, remember! There’s a reason we’ve made everything lighter over thousands of years!” said Mike.

“I packed all my necessities!” answered Jacub back, “Maybe we have a different idea on what’s necessary and what’s not.”

“So where are we going anyway?” asked Mike.

“We are to go to the safe house and prepare our attack strategy on finding this Croat,” Jacub scoffed, looking around, “We need to find this… One-Twenty-Two Eden and we’ll be all set. Now, where do we find One-Twenty-Two Eden?”

Jacub and Mike stood outside of One-Twenty-Two Eden in awe. They were on a back alley street, with homeless and raggy citizens walking around. They were staring at a broken down apartment complex, with some of its windows boarded up.

Jacub checked the address again, and ruffled his brows. Mike placed his bags down, and set his hands on his hips. He glared at Jacub, and then he snatched the address out of his hand.

“Hey,” started Jacub as Mike glanced it over.

“This is the place?” stated Mike, more as a fact rather then a question, “Why, it’s a dump!”

“Well it’s not beautiful, but I’ve slept in worse… hell I’ve been stationed in less!” laughed Jacub as he grabbed his bags and walked toward the building’s front door.

“You can’t possibly be serious?” asked Mike with a disgusted look on his face, “This building should be condemned! It looks like something a few weeks shy of the slums! This can’t possibly be where we’re staying.”

“We’re not friends...” he said between clenched teeth as they entered the building.

It looked even worse on the inside. There was a small registration table where a short, messy haired woman sat behind a desk and slept. It was gloomier inside, only one moth eaten lamp casting light from a small room that held a fire place and some lounge chairs. There was also a small desk lamp that wasn’t turned on by the registration table. Jacub smiled slightly then approached the registration desk while Mike scrutinized the walls and ceilings.

The walls had holes where someone or something had smashed into it, and paint and wallpaper peeled off in a large amount. The ceiling and tops of the walls showed clear sign of severe water damage, and Mike’s eyes could pick out mold splotches in some areas.

Mike showed clear sign of disgust on his face, and he tried to burn his gaze in the back of Jacub’s head. Jacub just stood in front of the registration desk for a bit and pondered his next move.

“We’re going to get the plague standing here!” spat Mike in a harsh whisper.

“Are you serious? Look it isn’t so bad. Wasn’t it you who said we should be inconspicuous and lay low. What better way?”

“This is not what I meant in any way!”

“Look,” said Jacub, placing his bags carefully on the ground, “What would you rather do? This is perfect! It looks a lot better then two government agents getting a hotel penthouse.”

“I would rather sleep on the street!” hissed Mike through clenched teeth.

“Fine, but we work in the room!” spat Jacub back, then he eyed the woman behind the counter and said, “What do you think? Should we… wake it?”

“Maybe he won’t mind if I sneak back there and get our room key,” suggested Mike.

“I think it’s a she,” said Jacub, “maybe some sort of… troll?”

“Don’t be silly, couldn’t be a troll!”

“Hello!” burst Jacub suddenly, interrupting the quiet of the room.

His sudden burst startled Mike, who immediately backhanded his in the back of the head. The women stirred, then stood to her feet, showing that she was quite large at that.

After a short yawn, she eyed the two and said, “Yeah? Welcome to Eden, we’re currently out of rooms. Sorry!”

At her raspy voice, Mike cringed and tilted up and eyebrow. Jacub put on a polite smile and just took a step forward.

“Ah… yes. So you two are sharing a room? You must be one of those weirdos. I don’t wanta hear any of your fooling around, you hear me! We don’t tolerate that crap here!” barked the women.

“What? No! We’re sharing a room but it’s not like that. We’re business partners,” said Jacub quickly.

“Are you seriously out of rooms?” asked Mike under his breath.

“Ok, well here’s your key. We only give one,” said the woman, “Enjoy your stay.”

Jacub took the key, picked up his bags, and headed down the hallway towards the elevator. Mike tried to follow him as quickly as he could.

“It’s on the second floor, third room to your right!” yelled the old woman down the hallway after them.

Mike and Jacub piled into a small elevator and hit the 2 button. Mike didn’t say a word as the elevator creaked and groaned on its way up. A minute later, the doors opened and Jacub and Mike hurried out of the elevator.

The hallways didn’t look much better at all, and only a few lights even tried to illuminate the corridor. The dark shadows and flickering lights set an eerie mood and sent chills up Jacub’s spine. Jacub made his way down the hallway with Mike in tow.

“You know what,” said Jacub, “Maybe it’s not the worse, but it is trying it’s hardest to get there.”

When they entered their room, mike looked around the place with a swift glance.

“It didn’t get any better,” said Mike, “I’m beginning to hate this assignment.”

“Well, that’s why they call it ‘Duty’. Sometimes it’s not enjoyable,” Jacub said as he threw his bags on the floor.

The wall and ceiling were just as bad in the room, and a vile stench seemed to be crawling out of the bathroom. There was only one bed, with a stained pillow and messed up sheet. Mike starred in horror at the room as Jacub sat himself down on a lounge chair and closed his eyes and sighed.

“Alright, this is absolutely ridiculous,” sputtered Mike, “I will never be able to accustom to such living conditions!”

“Maybe you need to calm down,” said Jacub, “You haven’t really been on many gritty missions, have you?”

“Please, I’ve been on plenty of dangerous missions!” exclaimed Mike, “I just can’t believe we’re working for the United States Government and we’re being forced to live like slobs!”

“Ugh, oh my God! This is going to be the longest mission ever…” Jacub moaned with his face in his hands.

“Then let’s get it over with and find this guy!” stated Mike, “Now Intel shows he hung around a lot with several dealers and fishermen down at the docks on a regular basis.”

“So we check and question the dockhands… maybe the unions and check the records,” mumbled Jacub.

“Not if they’re in allegiance with him knowingly,” countered Mike, taking out some files and putting on his reading glasses, “He’ll leave the country before we even get a chance to find him.”

“Then what? We interrogate a few workers and find out what the hell he’s doin’ down there,” commented Jacub.

Mike looked up with mock awe, “Wow, did you even listen to anything I said?”

“Well fine, twinkle toes,” joked Jacub, “Let’s do it your way. Lets sneak in after dark, under the cover of night, and covert ops are way in there looking for info.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Mike suddenly, enough to make Jacub look up swiftly, “It appears our German friend made one unusual stop along the way…a Carson’s Construction Company. It’s a bit out of town but it was one of his major locations visited and one of the last places he visited before leaving.”

“What would he want with an American Construction Company?” asked Jacub.

“Well Construction is actually a small part of this business, they’re actually one of the worlds largest Construction Equipment moving companies in the world,” Mike read, “It appears the founder was in the Great War, and began making it possible and reasonable for countries and empires to get construction equipment and materials moved across lands or seas. They work primarily with the US Government but they are known to be sold out by countries around the world.”

“So you think they’d sell themselves out to the Croats?” asked Jacub.

“Not knowingly, I don’t think. But it’s worth checking out.”

“In that case we should leave as soon as we’re unpacked,” said Jacub, “Our only bit of hope lies in this place at least pointing us in the right direction”

“Yes, and hopefully we might bump into him while we’re there,” said Mike, and he jumped up to begin unpacking.

Jacub’s back was still a little sore from the ride over. Even he had to admit the government could’ve paid for a better working car instead of an old-style jalopy. It was his fault he let the Elf drive as well. He scrunched his nose up and walked farther in.

Mike was examining a war poster which read, “Support Our Allies! Vote in President MacArthur for a second term and keep the war over there!”

A radio was playing in the background, a slow country patriotic war tune. Jacub examined the small shop. It wasn’t much of an HQ. A Small amount of offices and some pamphlets and posters. The US Army was thinking of moving in and leasing out the second part of it for recruiting purposes.

An older gentleman with a bushy white beard was sitting by the office, snoozing lightly. He was incredibly short, but Jacub didn’t think he was of Dwarven roots. Jacub lightly rapped on the desk, stirring the old man from his slumber.

The old man coughed like a horse would then adjusted a tiny pair of spectacles on his nose. He stood more rigid now, and showed indeed to be short, but not a dwarf.

“What,” asked the man, “Can I help you with stranger?”

“You Carson of Carson’s Construction Company?” asked Jacub.

“That I am,” smiled the man, “The founder of CCC, ah-ha! What can I do you for?”

“Actually, we’re hunting down a friend of ours who’s appeared to use your services,” said Mike, removing his fedora and placing it on the desk.

“Hmm… government types, eh?” said the man, getting a little annoyed.

“Not exactly,” said Mike.

“Then you’re Gangsters! And I want nothing to do with ya,” the man sputtered, “I’ve only dealt with government and local contractors as long as we’ve been in business. There’s no way I’m letting you thugs muscle your way into this business as well!”

“This man,” said Jacub, showing him the picture of the spy, “He did business with you, no?”

“Hey, that’s Mr. Meltzer…” said the man, who immediately covered his mouth in fright.

“Who did you say this was?” question Jacub intently.

“Oh you’re not gonna hurt him are you?” asked the man, “He’s really a nice guy, all he wanted was some equipment moved.”

“Where?” said Mike, “This is US Government business, man. Out with it!”

“I don’t know… he never said. Besides the crew is already out moving it. I don’t know where… there was very little paperwork. His name was Ulrich…. Ulrich Meltzer.”

“Is that it?” asked Jacub, grabbing hold of the old man and holding him firmly, “It’s not enough… we need more info… we need MORE!”

“There isn’t anymore besides he asked for our services and wanted to work directly with the crew chief. There isn’t anymore!” exclaimed the man.

“Jake,” exclaimed Mike, “maybe he’s telling the truth… He can’t be any more help here. We have a name, and that’s good enough.”

Jacub released the man but stormed out of the shop, Mike glared at the man and left a government number in case his memory decided to “jolt”. Outside Jacub lit a cigarette and puffed angrily. The street outside was quite busy for a suburban marketplace and it drowned out the noise of the city just within view. Mike sighed and placed the picture in his coat pocket.

“Well, now what?” he asked.

“We’ll need to do your under cover work at the docks to see how it ties in, look up the name Meltzer.”

“What do you think he’ll need the company for?” asked Mike, “You think the Germans want to build something somewhere? A base, an airfield?”

Jacub took another puff of his cigarette, “They could do that under their own power, odds are it’s a movement of war materials…. They could even move tanks and other war machines around with this… but why a construction company?”

“More… secretive?” asked Mike .

Jacub nodded slightly then threw his cigarette down, “Maybe some type of invasion. An attack against the US would ensure Axis victory in the other wars and cripple our allies.”

“So that’s it then,” said Mike, “We’ve uncovered a plot for Nazi attack?”

A child, who lo9oked about 9-10ish bumped into Mike, hard, and mumbled an apology. Before he could react Mike had his wrist in his hand and held him firmly. Jacub stepped back in surprise, and examined the situation. In the boy’s hand was Mike’s wallet and the picture of the spy.

Mike took back his wallet, and placed it into the seat pocket of his pants. The he examined the photo and went to put it back in his coat pocket. The child’s eyes lit up and he pointed towards the picture.

“Hey, that’s him!” yelled the child, “That’s the dark man!”

Jacub immediately snapped his attention towards the child, then he swiped the photo and showed it to the kid, “Are you saying you know this man? Where have you seen him?”

The child frowned then said, “He is the reason I went to that stinky place where they put kids like me. I hate that place, I won’t go back, you hear me?”

“Hey, hey, hey, look we won’t send you anywhere, ok? Promise,” said Mike, “But we’re looking for this man. How did you know him? Where did you see him? How long ago was it?”

“I don’t believe dirty elf liars,” said the boy, again trying to tug himself away, “I won’t tell you anything!”

“We have ways of making punks talk,” said Jacub, and he grabbed the kid by the collar of the shirt.

“Hey, hey,” said Mike, holding Jacub back and giving him a surprised look.

“What?” asked Jacub, “This brat knows our guy.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Mike, “Beat it out of the nine-year-old?”

“What do you suggest?” asked Jacub.

“My God,” mumbled Mike, then he leaned down and said, “Ok, little boy, listen here. We won’t tell on you, and you’re not in trouble. If you tell us at least where and when you saw this man then we’ll… get you an ice cream.”

“No dice,” said the kid through gritted teeth.

Mike sighed then closed his eyes in frustration.

“An Ice Cream? Please,” said Jacub, then he held the kid more firm and said, “Listen, kid, how’s this for dice: I’ll give you a buck for the info, yeah? An entire dollar.”

“Fifty Bucks,” said the kid suddenly, “He seems important to you guys.”

“Fifty bucks! What the-” exclaimed Jacub, who look a walk in a circle in anger, “What the hell kind of swinger is this? What do you think this is, kid?”

“You’re looking for him he must be important,” said the kid again, crossing his arms, “Fifty Bucks, plus I’ll lead you right to the spot I found saw him.”

“He does have a point,” said Mike, “He’s the only one who’s seen him in any recent time, the photo is a good five to ten years old.”

“How can we trust you kid?” said Jacub, “How are we sure you even know this guy? How can you be sure!”

“I know that face,” said the kid suddenly, “I have nightmares every night about him. I hate his guts. I know that face.”

“Alright then, kid,” said Jacub, firmly reaching for his wallet, “Fifty Bucks, you take us to the spot, and you help us look around for him in the area, alright? But,” he said, flashing the money, he saw the kid jump for it and he pulled back, smiling, “You get paid after we find him only if we find him. If not you only get half! Got it, kid?”

“My name is not kid!” yelled the boy, who crossed his arms in anger again, “It’s Jerry.”

“We got a deal, Jerry?” asked Mike.

“Yeah, we got a deal,” said the kid.

“Alright, so start talking!” said Jacub.

“Alright, fine. It was about a month ago,” started the kid, “After Christmas. It was because of him I got sent to a Juvy Center. I hated it there. It was a week or so after New years and I escaped.”

“Run away,” said Jacub under his breath, “Ok kid, we don’t care about your sob story. Where was he? When did you see him?”

“He was in my old home, New Orc Lens,” said Jerry, “It was New Years Party in the streets, I was runnin from coppers.”

“New Orleans?” asked Mike, “What would he be doing over there?”

“If his story’s true,” said Jacub, “This is more updated Intel then our documents.”

“I’m telling the truth” pouted Jerry, “I wouldn’t make up being sent to that awful place!”

“Alright, kid, then you’re going home,” said Jacub, “And Mike, your wish is granted. Phone Washington, tell them we’re on our way to a lead.”

“And we need better living quarters,” said Mike with a smile, and he followed Jacub to the car.

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